


Of Map Markers and Blue Vials

by NicePumpkinSpice



Series: Of Sweet Memories and Guarded Moments [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicePumpkinSpice/pseuds/NicePumpkinSpice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn tries to work despite a horrendous hangover.  Cullen discloses his struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Map Markers and Blue Vials

Evelyn shuffled to the war room under the effects of a massive hangover. She vaguely recalled drinking with Chargers the night before and tried to sharpen memories dimmed by alcohol. Krem being aqunathlat or some Qunari phrase that summed up so much in a few syllables. Something about Dalish NOT being a mage even though she carried a staff and had buzzed with magic. And then visiting Cullen and ... _Oh shit!_ she thought as her mind conjured images of her brazenly inquiring as to whether Cullen had forsworn sex as part of his devotion to the Chantry. _Maker, please let that part be a hallucination._ she breathed.

The doors leading to the war room were too loud. Rubbing her temples, Evelyn made a mental note to tell Gatsi to get them oiled. The light that came through the crumbling wall was too bright. Gatsi should fix that as well. Seriously, what was that dwarf doing worrying about mosaic pieces when parts of the castle were collapsing?

Taking a deep breath before opening the monk’s door to the war room, Evelyn attempted to make her face into a pleasant mask. With Josephine and Leliana’s coaching, she was endeavoring to better hide her emotions. It was not easy for Evelyn to hold her tongue, weigh her words, or disguise her fears. She had always prided herself on being a straightforward individual, but her advisors kept stressing that she needed to be more subtle. Well, at least, Leliana and Josephine made that point. Cullen for his part seemed disgusted by the notion of political machinations and subterfuge. 

Evelyn realized that she had to find a balance between who she was and who the Inquisition needed her to be. She wished she didn’t have to pretend so much - especially with her head pounding and her stomach protesting. _I will never drink again. Or at least not so much at one time. Or well, at least not when I have an important meeting first thing in the morning._ she promised herself dialing back her own expectations from the wildly unlikely to the nearly plausible.

Entering the room, Evelyn quickly glanced around to size up the situation. When her eyes detected Leliana’s sly smirk, Josephine’s decidedly averted gaze, and Cullen’s ghost white face, Evelyn knew that she really had asked the Commander whether he had promised himself to the Maker and that it wasn’t just an alcohol induced hallucination.

All of her carefully contrived composure fled from Evelyn as she sighed, “Well, this is uncomfortable.” Leliana looked at her disapprovingly. Josephine pretended to be consumed with whatever was on her clipboard. And Cullen seemed relieved or embarrassed or maybe a mixture of the two. Evelyn continued her thought while staring at the markers on the war table, “I drank too much last night and regret my intrusion. Being Inquisitor does not give me the right to question my advisors about their private affairs. I apologize, Commander.” Evelyn looked up from the table praying that Cullen would accept her words.

Rather than showing anger or resentment, Cullen’s eyes radiated warmth and amusement. With a sideways grin, he said, “No harm done, Inquisitor. I haven’t had such a .... memorable night in quite a while.” The way he paused before he said “memorable” and made playful eye contact with her made Evelyn’s heart jump. He was brushing aside her indiscretion and allowing her to save face. _Andraste, he really is to good to be true._

The meeting went on for several hours. Reports of Venatori activity, nobles demanding aid, refugees needing resources, roads requiring repair, contracts to negotiate... It was an endless drone of needs, wants, priorities, and distractions that made Evelyn’s headache worse. The only thing that kept it bearable was hearing Cullen’s honeyed voice and noticing how the muscles in his arm rippled when he gesticulated at map markers. _Maker, this is getting ridiculous. I’m as bad as that lovesick captain in Swords and Shields._

When the meeting concluded, Cullen held back and gestured for her to come toward him. “Inquisitor, there is an important matter I need to bring to your attention. If you would, please stop by my office after lunch. Thank you.” The words sounded almost practiced to Evelyn and weren’t so much a request as a gently worded order. She nodded her agreement and pondered just what Cullen needed to discuss that he couldn’t have mentioned during the meeting. 

Evelyn usually took her lunch with Solas in his study. If pressed, she wouldn’t have called him so much a friend as a mentor. He was incredibly insightful and had immeasurable magical knowledge. Sometimes she wondered how someone that appeared no more than 15 years her senior knew so much about so many things, but most of the time she was grateful for his wisdom and guidance no matter its source. 

Today, Evelyn had a lunch date with Varric and Dorian. They had cornered her on the way to the war room demanding that they be filled in on all the details of her night out with the Chargers. Over beef stew and corn muffins, Varric recounted the various rumors that spawned from her overindulgence. His personal favorites were that she had gotten sick on the battlements because she was carrying Dorian’s love child or that she had nearly been assassinated by a poisoned chalice. Evelyn wondered how many of the rumors Varric had “heard” originated with him, but at least none of the rumors touched on the real reason for her late night visit to Cullen’s office. She gave Dorian and Varric a sanitized version of her escapade - leaving out the celibacy discussion- and spent more time describing how graciously Cullen had accepted her apology for barging in his office in the middle of the night.

“All right, Bright Eyes, I won’t push you for the entire story, but I do wonder what is going on between Curly and you. The whole mage/templar thing just seems too ... I don’t know - trite. I envisioned you with someone more exotic.” Varric mused.

“Varric, are you hinting that I might have a chance with you?” Evelyn teased.

“Unfortunately, Bright Eyes, I’m already taken.” he replied while patting his crossbow. “So spill, what is the deal with you and the Commander?”

“Nothing. Or at least I think nothing. I wish it weren’t nothing, but it probably isn’t anything.” Evelyn stammered.

Dorian looked at Varric with barely concealed disdain, “Do you see what I have to work with? Anytime this subject comes up with either of them, this is what I get -awkward sentences and intractable self doubt. Completely unbecoming people that are nearly as good looking as I am.”

Evelyn was horrified. “You said when you talk to either of us. You’ve... you’ve talked to _him_ about _me_?” She put her head down on the table and whispered a silent prayer for the Maker to take her now.

“To be perfectly honest, he asked me about you.” Dorian replied with a flourish. “First he wanted to know if you and I were together. Rather chivalrous - don’t you think? Wanting to respect another man’s territory or similar nonsense... When I expressed my interest in his availability more than yours, he blanched a bit but quickly turned the conversation back to you. That was a rather dull game of chess - I do so hate talking about people other than myself.”

Maybe her hangover was worse than she thought, Evelyn felt the room spinning. “I’ve... I’ve got to go. I have...um ...a meeting.” 

“You’ve already had war council today. Cassandra and Blackwall are sparring. Solas is off with Dagna collecting weird fade specimen shit. You avoid Vivienne like the plague. And I figure you saw plenty of Bull, Cole, and Sera last night. Who exactly are you meeting?” Varric probed.

_Damn dwarf and his observational skills_ Evelyn thought before hissing, “Cullen - okay? I am meeting Cullen, and I don’t want to hear another word from either of you.”

Dorian raised a perfectly arched eyebrow but stayed silent. Varric chuckled while shaking his head. “This is just too perfect.” he quipped as soon as Evelyn was out of earshot. 

As Evelyn made her way to Cullen’s office, she allowed herself to hope that this might be the moment where he would make his move. Pinching her cheeks before opening the door to his office, Evelyn broke into a wide smile that reached to her eyes. No noble’s mask of indifference for Cullen - never for him.

Her face fell when her she entered the room. Something was wrong. Cullen was hunched over his desk, staring at a small rectangular box. She thought he might not have even noticed her arrival but he began to speak, “As leader of the Inquisition, there is something you should know...”

Evelyn struggled to process what he had told her. He had stopped taking lyrium months ago when he agreed to lead the Inquisition’s armies. He was endangering his health, his sanity to break the blue liquid’s power over him. Why take such a risk?

She thought back to her days working in the storeroom of Ostwick’s circle. After one of her adolescent tantrums left a small section of the library smoking, the first Enchanter had sent her to the storerooms to work with the tranquil as a punishment and a warning - letting Evelyn absorb what her future would hold if she didn’t learn to better control her magic and herself. 

Evelyn learned a great deal in the months spent among the eerily emotionless tranquil in the perfectly ordered room. She found that she adored order - finding comfort in turning bottles so the labels all faced the same direction and sorting incoming supplies into neat piles . She developed a fascination for herbology that continued to the present much to the regret of her companions that had to wait while she picked flowers as they travelled. And she learned how strongly lyrium bound the Circle’s templars to the Chantry’s service.

The templars would show up before their scheduled time to get their daily draughts of the blue potion. Their hands would tremble as they reached for the small vials she would pass to them. In times when the supply caches were low and lyrium rations were curtailed, she saw the templars become ragged. Though never cut off fully, the templars experienced terrible withdrawal when given smaller rations. Giant warriors would stand in front of her with teary, sunken eyes begging for her to give them just a little more, so they could make it through the day.

And Cullen had been without it for _months_. Not only without it but leading an entire army. She was awed by his determination. As she left his office, Evelyn wished she had better communicated how much she respected his choice. How much she wanted him to succeed. How much he meant to her. 

Solas had once complimented Evelyn on her indomitable focus. Her instructors in the circle knew that she was unstoppable once her mind was set on something. Corypheus had learned that although she was a slight woman that she was not someone to take lightly. As Evelyn returned to her quarters, she resolved to do whatever she could to help Cullen battle his addiction. This was a fight she would not allow him to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> I admit that Evelyn's love for ordering things is a bit of self-insertion. The satisfaction of setting things just so is truly lost on those without a touch of OCD. I will admit to feeling a secret glee when taking in neatly stocked shelves or a car parked perfectly between the lines on the pavement. *Sigh* - if all the world could be arranged in alphabetical order according to size and color... 
> 
> I love hearing from you and would welcome your comments.


End file.
